


Nuvole Bianche

by Xiime



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Depression, Eventual Fluff, Everybody deserves love!, M/M, Piano, Slow Burn, development of relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiime/pseuds/Xiime
Summary: Matthew considered himself nothing more than average, living in the shadow of his brother. Average intelligence, average piano skills, average life. Until one day, he met a mysterious man that saw him as something more.Also known as: Russia learns what feels are





	1. Purple

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been a while since I last wrote anything! This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I'm very excited to tell this story I have in my mind. It felt fitting to come back to the fandom I used to write for.
> 
> I'll be adding the rest of the characters, relationships and additional tags as they appear. I have an idea of where I want this story to go, but for now I'll just keep the main tags.
> 
> I haven't really read a fic where they talk about the feel-y/abstract stuff related to playing music, so I wanted to try to show that to those of you who haven't played an instrument before!
> 
>  
> 
> And lastly, please let me know if this is something you'd like to read. I'll try to keep a short time between updates, but I'd still like to know your opinion!

_As it reaches the climax, I feel it pull at my heartstrings and then let me go. The quiet peace that follows takes me again to that soft bed made of clouds, with the rays of sunshine making funny shapes of light with their reflexion on the droplets._

_The breeze rearranges the clouds, and some of the droplets fly up and dance in front of me. They built figures of great beauty until, as the musical piece reaches its ending, they just stand still for a moment before falling back to the clouds again, slowly and with grace._

 

As he finishes playing and looks up, the illusion fades.

Matthew took his hands away from the keys, slowly, and took a deep breath. What a journey. He had been so lost in the world his music created that returning to the real world felt like a bucket of water splashing his face. Suddenly, he was aware of things that had been there the whole time, like the street noises coming from his apartment window, the coldness in the top his hands from playing for too long in a cold place, the soft pain in his arms from that last fast piece, the noise in his mind he had been trying to hide by his playing in the first place.

A snore, too.

Wait, a snore?

Matthew turned around and saw his brother, Alfred, lying across the couch of their shared apartment. It didn’t surprise him, it was something that usually happened when people listened to him playing soft pieces. It looked like his brother hadn’t even realized he was falling asleep, as the book he had been reading was lying on the floor, wide open. It wasn’t even a small book, it was a big encyclopedia, and Alfred would certainly dislike the way it was lying on the floor. Matthew got up slowly, his joints aching, and stretched. He went to where his brother was, picked up his book, and carefully put it on the coffee table.

His brother was studious. He had a brilliant mind and took advantage of it to its full potential. He managed to finish college 3 years before what everyone expected him to, and big companies were already looking at him in his last year as a potential employee.

Matthew, on the other hand, was average. He played the piano, but he wasn’t good enough or devoted enough to play professionally. He tried to study medicine, but he hadn't been good enough to pass all the classes in the first try, and they couldn’t afford more than that, so now he lived with what he could earn in multiples part-time jobs. Pitiful.

Shaking the dark thoughts out of his head, he stood straight and glanced at the clock. It was time for his shift at the restaurant. He went reluctantly to his room to change into his usual simple attire. As he played background music, he was supposed to stay in the background. Never shining, just being part of the decoration.

He walked to the apartment door, grabbed Alfred’s keys and his own cellphone. Glancing back, he saw Alfred shift in the couch to a more comfortable position. Since the day he bought that couch he had been falling asleep there more often than not. Matthew smiled fondly, opened the door, and stepped outside.

 

* * *

 

 

The restaurant he worked at was “the fancy restaurant”, as the kids called it. It was the only one in town that would waste money hiring someone to play the piano instead of just playing music with a computer. Matthew was grateful for having that job, even if he had only got it because the Chef liked his accent more than those of the other applicants.

It was opening time already and everybody was waiting for him. That was one of the moments, as stupid as it may sound, that he felt truly in charge of something. The restaurant had a tradition that the piano was supposed to be playing when the first customer entered, so every night they waited until Matthew started to play before officially opening the door.

Some days, like this one, Matthew liked to sit on the bench, put his hands on top of the keys, and wait a few moments. He knew the waiter in charge of the door was waiting for him. That the customers that were outside hoping to grab a table without having a reservation were, too, waiting for him. He felt powerful, in control.

He smiled, feeling a bit better, and pressed the keys that started his first piece of the night.

 

* * *

 

Some hours later, Matthew was playing what he hoped was the last one. He could see there were only a couple of tables occupied left, and that the closing time was near. He had already looked out of the corner of his eyes before starting this piece and had seen that most customers were eating dessert.

There were some days when the customers were actually interested in Matthew, or the music he was playing, and they stayed listening until the closing time. Usually, when he finished playing the last piece, they left.

But today, when he finished playing that last piece and looked in the direction of the tables, there were two men still sitting there. The older one wore a stern look in his eyes and his mouth was pressed in discomfort. Even through that man’s perfect posture, Matthew could feel how much he wished he was anywhere else but there. In contrast, the younger man looked quite pleased, and his piercing purple eyes were looking straight into Matthew.

“Matthew!” someone whispered loudly. With some difficulty, he moved his stare away from the strange men and looked directly in front of him, to his fellow work buddy and best friend, Michelle. She was frowning, but smiled to him jokingly anyway, “Keep playing, then!”

Matthew knew he didn’t have to, but he decided to do it anyway. He looked up to this strange man, and when he was met with that intense purple gaze again, he nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. The man looked amused at that, and then he turned to talk to the man sitting next to him, making some hand gestures. Matthew turned his head, got himself a bit more comfortable on the bench and started playing again.

He played a chord without thinking, realizing what piece his hands were aching to play. It just came naturally, maybe because he had been craving for days to play this piece in an acoustic piano. As his hands moved across the keys, he could feel freedom. The freedom it gave him to play something he loved in _this_ piano, to know that right now he didn’t have the pressure he had all nights with so many people hearing him, absent-mindedly or not. Matthew had the feeling this purple-eyed man wouldn’t mind if he let himself loose playing this, and his presence helped him having a place to direct his emotions to. Even if the man didn’t care and was just sitting there because he was waiting for someone to come and get them, and even if he stood up in the middle of the song and left, it didn’t matter. It was just the thought of someone listening that helped Matthew abstract himself.

And as he continued playing, feeling the pressure under his fingers, the weight of every key, the perfectly imperfect sounds the acoustic piano was making due to his _own_ hands playing… he could almost see them. The white clouds.

 

_The world starts to built itself around me. Every note feels like a droplet looking for its place among the others, forming the clouds. They come and go, and in a moment the wind blows them away and leaves me sitting on grass, butterflies dancing in the flowers around me, touching my clothes. I can hear a waterfall near me, the water splashing the rocks and forming a river, an endless stream towards who knows where. I stand up and feel the wind in my body, the sun in my face, the birds singing on top of the trees. It feels like I’m in a piano-made paradise, the kind of paradise I love most._

_But then, when I'm starting to enjoy myself too much, the wind brings back the clouds and the meadow disappears. The music is mocking us, making us imagine what it_ could _be, and then taking it away from us. Leaving only white clouds. But these clouds are still dancing nonetheless, and I feel the urge to dance with them. Even if that paradise was an illusion, this wasn’t so bad. And as the song reaches the end, in the same way it happened a couple of hours ago at my apartment, the drops stay still. And in the last beat of my last chord, everything falls, leaving me alone in the dark again.  
_

 

He took his hands off the keys just in the right moment to feel it like part of the piece. He had felt it, danced with it, and that always left him feeling wild, and just a little bit sad.

He looked up now, and couldn't help glancing sideways to him who had been the focus of his music.

But the tables were empty.

A bit disappointed, though he was doing his best to ignore it, Matthew closed the heavy piano lid. He stood up and put the bench in its place. When he turned around he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Your last piece was beautifully played, sir,” said the purple eyed man with a light foreign accent. He was standing next to the steps of the small stage the piano and Matthew were on. The older man was nowhere to be seen, but Matthew could see his friend Michelle peaking through the kitchen door.

“Oh, thank you,” answered Matthew, walking to the steps. “I actually let myself loose a bit, as it was the last piece. I hope you didn't mind.”

The man looked amused again. “No, no, don't worry, that's what made it beautiful. You're very gifted, to be able to feel the music like that. You almost made me feel it too.” He smiled a bit sadly. “Do you have any recordings of your playing that I can buy?”

“No, I… never thought of recording myself, actually.” Matthew stopped with his foot above the last step. “Playing the piano is just a hobby of mine, I got lucky I could find a job where they pay me because of it,” he said, finally standing on the floor at the same level of his admirer. He felt weird, being that much shorter than someone. He was used to being one of the tallest.

“Oh, pity. You work here everyday, at least?” the man asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Yes, I do.” Matthew looked at him intrigued. What was it with this man? Matthew didn't even play that well, anyone could find tons of people who played better in YouTube.

“Then I’ll have to come here to listen again. I hope to see you play more pieces the way you played this last one,” he said with an almost sincere smile. He took a step away and said, “Goodbye, then”.

The man turned around and Matthew hurried to ask, “Excuse me, what is your name?”

The strange man turned back, surprised.

“You can call me... Ivan,” he said, pausing for a split second before saying his name. “What about yours?”

“My name is Matthew Bonnefoi, nice to meet you,” Matthew said in his usual introduction tone.

“The pleasure is mine,” was the automatic answer he received. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’m sorry,” said Ivan. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister Bonnefoi.”

“Yeah,” was all Matthew could manage, and he watched the strange man walk away in that fancy suit and perfect posture.

He wasn't going to admit it out loud, but he felt flattered someone had liked his playing enough to come to talk to him. He smiled internally and went to the kitchen with the rest of the staff.

 

* * *

 

And this night, unlike the previous ones, Matthew went to bed feeling good about himself. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was purple eyes.


	2. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever wonder what piano piece is Matthew playing when his mind goes to the dream world just ask, it's always a very specific one!
> 
> I'll try to keep an organized bi-weekly posting schedule, but we'll see how it goes.
> 
> Enjoy!

"So… That blond guy from last night," said Michelle excitedly. "He was stupid hot, wasn't he?" She bit her lip with dreamy eyes, expecting Matthew to agree with her.

It was the following morning and Michelle was trailing along after Matthew, waiting for him to finish his shift at the grocery store. He was stocking up the shelves while they talked, which was his usual Tuesday morning. But today was different. Today his mind was elsewhere.

"Yeah?" he answered absent-mindedly.

"Are you serious!? I'd swear that I saw you looking at him with the most intense gaze." She said smiling, leaning against Matthew jokingly.

Matthew jumped a bit at the sudden contact, coming back to reality and trying to repeat that last bit of conversation in his mind. Blond guy…? Oh, purple eyes!

"Oh, that…" he said, blushing and averting his eyes. "I… guess he was a bit handsome? He certainly had the most hypnotic purple eyes…" he trailed off, day-dreaming again.

Michelle slapped his arm happily, and Matthew looked at her annoyed.

"Oh my God! You really were looking at him!" She smiled widely. "I guess I don't have a chance with him, then. Don't worry, I'll leave him all for you." She winked at him with a mischievous look.

"Michelle," groaned Matthew, rolling his eyes. "He's just a normal person who happens to be pleasing to the eyes, that's all. You can't try to hook me up with every single person that I find good looking."

"Nonsense," she said without batting an eye at the reproach. "I know this time you _did_ feel something for him. Otherwise, you wouldn't still be thinking about him and putting that face," she said as if it was the most logical reasoning ever. Matthew knew that for her it was.

"He intrigues me, that's all," he answered shortly, not wanting to start that old argument again. He turned his full attention to the boxes of vegetables he had to put in place before finishing his shift. As much as he loved his best friend, dating and... that sort of stuff... was something they'd never agree on, and something he generally didn't enjoy talking about.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," said his friend after a short silence, all her previous excitement gone.

"I know, don't worry about it," Matthew answered. "Just let me finish with this and then we can go somewhere else," he said with a smile as if nothing had happened.

"Alright," Michelle said, and they kept quiet until he finished.

* * *

 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon and Matthew had just dropped Michelle off at the local college. It was now the most difficult time of the day, the limbo between his two part-time jobs.

At some time in his life, he had used these hours to study Russian, but it hadn't gone well either. His attention span didn't last very long, especially if the only way he could afford to study a language was through free apps on his phone.

At least he had his brother there most days now, as he had just finished college and was sorting through work proposals. They liked to play games in their PS4, and the previous day they had just started a new one.

Matthew arrived at his block, already looking forward to an afternoon of playing, when something called his attention. Alfred's car wasn't where it was supposed to be. He took off his backpack and looked for his phone in the usual pocket. He turned the screen on and saw he had a text from Alfred: _I got a call! And from a big one, too! I'm off to the interview, don't know when I'll be back. Don't play the new game without me!_

Matthew smiled with the most sincere joy and entered the building. It took the whole trip upstairs to the second floor where their apartment was to realize that meant he'd be alone this afternoon. He opened the door and went inside.

That last week spent with his brother at home all day had been too good to last. His presence always felt like a ray of sunshine lighting up the apartment. and his absence always made Matthew feel empty. It reminded him of how pointless his life was without him. All he wanted to do was support his brother as best as he could, even if it meant not telling him about his worries.

He dropped his backpack on the floor, texted an _"Awesome! Good luck!"_ to his brother and then put his phone on the kitchen counter. He took off his jacket an threw it to the floor too, on top of his backpack. He walked straight to the piano and started today's practice without a second of hesitation, not even paying attention to his posture, just playing loudly and excusing himself thinking it was only to help his muscle memory. That filling the void his brother had left this afternoon was just a nice secondary effect.

* * *

At 7 pm, Matthew stopped. He had played everything that came to his mind, one time each, from the most romantic Chopin nocturnes to the noisiest contemporary pieces. From the perfect Mozart sonatas to those modern heartfelt movie soundtracks. He had played for four hours, not repeating any piece and not leaving a single free moment for him to think unwanted thoughts. His lower back ached from the bad posture he never cared to fix and his fingers were sweaty and shaking from the effort of playing for too loudly and fast for too long. His whole body was tired.

He stood up and went straight to the shower. He didn't stop to regret having played the piano up to so late, didn't stop to think he would have to walk fast to the restaurant today, as it was already late and he didn't have Alfred's car. He didn't stop to think about the mess he'd be tonight after playing for four more hours in a piano with heavier keys. He didn't stop to think he'd been careless, that he'd hurt his back on a Tuesday and that if he wasn't more careful it'd get worse the rest of the workdays.

He didn't need to stop to think about that, he was so used to it that he could do it while he showered, changed to his work clothes, and all the way while he ran to the restaurant.

* * *

T hat night he played mechanically, as if the restaurant had really just hired someone to play pre-recorded music on the computer. He knew the Chef didn't mind, as he hadn't actually hired him for his playing, but for his appearance.

The night passed quickly, the only highlights being how much his back hurt with every passing minute and Michelle trying to ask him something in between pieces.

"Hey, Matt," she said in a whisper, standing next to the stage with a tray in her hands. She was carrying some used plates and glasses, it seemed like she had just finished cleaning up a table. "Is there something wrong?"

Matthew looked at her from above and smiled.

"No, don't worry, I'm fine," he said in a normal voice. "I'm just having a backache and it's a bit uncomfortable, but I'm okay." He took advantage of the pause and stretched his arms a bit.

"Take care of yourself, dummy!" she scolded him. "Don't you want to quit it for today? It's a bit late already, it'd be alright if you stopped." She looked at the staff's door as if asking telepathically for someone to show up and tell Matthew it was alright.

"No, I'm fine. I want to finish on time today," he said, with determination in his words. Michelle looked at him and smiled wiggling her eyebrows. She knew why (or for whom) he wanted to stay.

* * *

It was already near closing time, and Matthew wasn't feeling too well. His admirer wasn't there today, and to say he was disappointed was to fall short. Ivan never actually said he'd be at the restaurant today, but… Matthew had thought that…

Matthew placed his hands carefully on the piano keys, closing his eyes. This was his last piece and, even if he wasn't physically there, his feeling would be directed at Ivan again. Just to try.

 

 _I’m sitting on my apartment on a typical afternoon, looking through the window to the rain falling on the streets. I feel the usual emptiness. The music builds a longing in me, and I wish someone was here with me. I can almost feel him, feel his warmth, his comfort._ _The pleasant light of the lightbulb touches my face and the piano keys I’m sitting in front of, and my apartment glows in a nice orange color._

_But that’s not reality, is it? It’s just another music-made dream._

_Suddenly, the music changes and I start falling through a giant hole on the floor. I try to grab something that stops my fall, but I can’t find anything and just wrap my arms around me, preparing for the impact.  
_

_Will he be there to catch me? Who am I for him to come and save me? Who am I really waiting for?_

_The music turns faster and faster, and I feel the despair of not knowing what I’ll find at the bottom of the hole._

_And when I reach the end, he’s there. The one I was longing for, waiting for me with open arms.  
_

 

Even though the piece was short, Matthew had felt the music amplify his real feelings, and that was always a bit frightening. When he reached the end, he couldn’t find out who he was playing that piece for. The feelings he poured in it felt too intimate to be dedicated to a stranger.

He didn't know why, but he had hoped that him playing his feelings out would’ve made Ivan come today. Rationally, he knew that couldn't happen, but it didn't stop him from dreaming.

Dreading the outcome, he took his hands off the keys and looked at the tables. They were empty, of course. He didn’t even know why he wanted him there so desperately today.

 _Maybe to prove you’re not a failure_ , whispered a tiny voice in Matthew’s head.

 _Shut it_ , said another one.

Not in the mood for a mental argument, the real Matthew just stood up, closed the lid and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments and constructive critisism are always appreciated! :)


End file.
